Sometimes I get so frustrated with you it makes me want to pull out my hair and scream at the top of my lungs because you're being such an idiot.
But then I remember my hair is too pretty to not be attached to my head.
***EDIT***
This just keeps getting better and better. You are dead to me now. Harsh? Perhaps. My fault? Not one bit. Peace out, bitch.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
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